Breaking Point
by WinterFrost15
Summary: The day of the Gozer incident, Egon broke his ankle. Instead of taking the logical steps to fix it, he took the coward's way out - he didn't tell anyone about his injury. Now, two excruciating weeks later, will Janine finally blow his cover and make him out to be a weak fool? Find out! (Last chapter to be rewritten in the future)
1. Chapter 1

**Rest in peace Harold Ramis, 1944-2014. You'll never be forgotten.**

1.

Egon hadn't told the others about his physical infirmity.

In his mind it was not very important, merely an aggravating trifle that could be dealt with. Besides, the pain in his ankle had amounted to nothing more than a dull ache. Surely that did not present any reason for his friends to rush him to the hospital? Surely he could just walk it off, pretend nothing was wrong, until it managed to heal itself?

That fall into the sinkhole hours before had not been as bad as he'd thought, the irrational (and particularly _emotional_) part of his mind began to convince him. He was just overreacting. He had only strained something. It would be fine in a day or two, possibly sooner if he avoided standing or walking for a little awhile.

Egon tried not to let his discomfort show now as Janine came running up to hug him. He was not, however, prepared for the force of her embrace, for as he tried to steady his feet on the ground and keep himself from falling over, he felt a searing pain shoot up and down his leg like a gunshot. He had to bite his lip to keep from hissing with pain, shifting his weight quickly but subtly onto his uninjured foot. He was only too grateful when Janine pulled away, hurrying off to see how the others were doing, so that he could let out a small whimper of anguish.

Grimacing, and cursing Dana Barrett's apartment building under his breath all the while, Egon started his way over to where his fellow Ghostbusters Ray, Peter and Winston were huddled around the Ecto-1. He knew he was limping slightly as he approached, but at this point it hardly mattered, just so long as no one noticed it and started fessing over him like a mother hen.

For once Peter wasn't acting like an ass, because he was helping Winston remove his proton pack and store in its customary rack in the back of the car. Ray had already claimed the driver's seat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he jingled the keys in growing impatience. When Egon finally arrived on the scene, he shrugged his pack off his shoulders and half-tossed, half-shoved it into Peter's outstretched arms, while at the same time pulling a handkerchief from his pockets and wiping his marshmallow-burnt face. Winston looked askance at him, a sympathetic and tired look in his face. This ordeal had really taken a toll on all of them.

With a sigh, Egon opened the door and squeezed his way into the backseat. Winston soon followed, with Peter straggling behind as he walked up front to join Ray. Within moments, with everyone safely buckled in for the ride, Ray fired up the Ecto-1 and blasted off, the car shrieking like a ghost as they raced away into the night.

It was silent for some time before anyone said anything - so of course it was only logical that Peter would be the one to speak up first.

"That was some crazy shit back there, wouldn't you say?" he said, laughing a bit uncertainly.

The others nodded, murmuring with agreement. As they did Egon couldn't help but peer down at his ankle again with a bitter and helpless look. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned it experimentally to one side. He instantly regretted it as he felt pain stab through every nerve in his leg. He couldn't clamp down the involuntary gasp that escaped him in time as he let it rest back in its previous position. Unfortunately this moment of weakness had not been lost on Peter and Winston. They both looked at him, Winston with a concerned expression on his features, Peter with a slightly put-off but equally troubled gaze. "You alright, pal?" Winston asked, patting his shoulder.

"Yeah," Egon replied, forcing what he hoped was a weary smile. "Everything is just starting to sink in, I think." He had to admit, though, he really was exhausted.

Winston nodded. "I feel ya', man," he said. "I'm _still_ tryin' to sort out what the hell happened back there."

After a brief pause, Peter interjected cheerfully, "Hey, guys. Why don't we go out to eat? It's on me."

"What sounds good?" Ray called from the driver's seat, drawing heavily on his cigarette.

"Thai or Mexican," Egon responded without hesitation.

Peter rolled his eyes. "That always sounds good to you, Egon," he groaned. "To be honest, I don't think I've seen you eat anything else, not counting the dozen or so Twinkies and Crunch bars you scarf down every day. But if you insist. . ." He turned towards Ray. "_Baminos, mi amigo_!"

Now it was Egon's turn to roll his eyes. Granted, he was fairly glad that Peter had swung his way this time, but that was not really his main concern at the moment. He was just praying that Ray would decide not to drive reckless for once. The last thing he needed right now was the car shaking and sending painful shock-waves through his ankle.

Still, as long as he got a taco out of the deal, then he would be living más.

_more to come. . ._

**Author's Notes: **

**I have to say, it has been hard to cope with Harold Ramis's death. I did not know his line of work very well, but I've watched Groundhog Day and both Ghostbusters movies, and felt almost immediately, after watching and re-watching them many times, that Harold was family to me. It might sound kind of strange, but that's how my mind works I guess. Almost all of my idols feel like part of my family. **

**My best impression of who Mr. Ramis was was as Dr. Egon Spengler from Ghostbusters. To me, Egon is the best character in those movies, and in my opinion I think you can really see Harold's personality shine through Egon. **

**From what I have heard from those closest to him, he was a kind, compassionate, and caring man who enjoyed life and enjoyed what he did for a living. And I must agree with them. Harold Ramis was truly a great man, and I do not know what we will do without him. **

**In the immortal words of Dan Aykroyd, may he now get the answers he was always seeking. **


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The supreme taco Egon ordered, with extra sour cream and cheese, was delicious, but it did not assuage the intense throbbing that was currently running the length of his calves and thighs. He tried his hardest not to think about it, to focus on the (somewhat normal) conversation the others were having about sports and television. His mind, however, could not break away from the pain, and from the horrors he had witnessed on that rooftop. In all honesty he was quite surprised they all had not been arrested on the spot, considering the damage they had caused - inadvertently or otherwise. His mind flickered briefly to the damaged rooftop again, and he wondered for a moment if they had really defeated Gozer the Gozerian or not. _But of course we did, _he thought, shaking his head in frustration. _We crossed the proton streams, which sent a powerful blast of energy through the Gateway. There's no way Gozer could have survived. . ._

Then Egon remembered Dana Barrett and Louis Tully. Dana had been caught right in the middle of the whole mess, as well as poor Louis, having been transformed into minions of the Gozerian for a time. That is, great, dog-like minions with hideously bad breath and boiling hot tempers strong enough to blast Hell itself out of existence. Egon was only too glad that he and the other had rescued those two from Gozer's influence; he wasn't certain how he would have reacted if anyone had actually died.

The familiar firehouse-like structure that was Ghostbusters HQ soon rolled into view. Egon sighed gratefully, wishing to get out of the Ecto-1 as soon as possible and catch up on some much-needed sleep. As they pulled into the building he saw that Janine had arrived ahead if them, for her car was sitting quietly to the right-hand side of their vehicle as they drove forward.

Once Ray stopped the car everyone began to get out. Winston was the first to open the backseat door and climb down. He turned back and soon realized Egon was having difficulty getting out of his own seat.

"Need some help there?" Winston said, smiling and offering his hand. Egon took it appreciatively and hauled himself up. The pain was worse than ever now - it was all he could do to hold back the tears. Slowly but surely, he was able to ease himself down into solid ground; then he panicked as he suddenly felt his knees give out beneath him. Desperately, he clung to Winston's overalls, his strength rapidly fleeing as exhaustion and pain struck with a vengeance.

"Peter, Ray, get over here quick!" Egon heard Winston yell, but at that point he was too very gone to register it entirely. He just wanted to sleep, to fall away from these mortal impairments of the body and soul and soar forever in the empty, blissful void. As he thought this he felt his eyes drift close, felt his mind yield to the gaping maw of black that awaited him on the other side. Wherever that was. . .

"EGON!" It was the voice of Peter. "C'mon buddy, don't clock out on us now!"

This stirred Egon a little. The shroud of darkness closing in seemed to lift ever so slightly, allowing him to view a strange, blurred image of his friend and colleague. Gathering up what small remnant of physical strength he could, he determinedly concentrated on Peter's face, willing its features to sharpen into great clarity before him.

Obviously noticing his efforts, Peter smiled sympathetically. It was the kindest gesture Egon had ever seen from him in all these years. "Hang in there, pal," he said. He and the others were starting to fade again as he spoke. "Dr. Venkman and Dr. Stantz are here to make everything A-okay."

Egon tried to nod, to give some indication that he understood, but the effort was simply too much. His senses were soon overwhelmed by oblivion, and the worried faces of his friends were swiftly snatched away with it.

_more to come. . ._

**Author's Note: **

**Yes, this is rather short! I apologize for that, but I promise the next one will be a bit longer. Still, I hope this was an okay read. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

3.

The first thing Egon remembered when he came to his senses was the feeling of warmth. It was the kind of comforting sensation that made him feel safe. It was also the sensation of sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms, as the quiet night sky fell upon the world.

The second thing he recalled was the cruel, cold and very literal slap of reality he received in the face a moment later.

The sting of the hit woke him completely. Eyes flying open, the hazy shapes of Peter and Ray swam into view, wavering a little before solidifying like insects under a microscope. Peter was leaning over him slightly, hand still hovering near his face as if in preparation to slap him again. With a burning glare, however, the Ghostbuster dropped his hand and straightened up.

"Ding-dong," Peter said, grinning at Egon like an idiot. "Twinkie delivery." He held up a package of the delectable sweets to further emphasize his cruel joke.

Egon managed a smile. "Ha ha," he shot back sarcastically. "Very funny, Venkman."

This, of course, only fed Peter's ego further. "Ha ha," he repeated in the same tone of voice. "I know, I'm such a card, aren't I? I'm just surprised Dana hasn't figured that out yet."

"She'll come to her senses, ol' pal," Ray assured, patting Peter's shoulder. Then, moving in front of Peter in order to stand beside Egon, he promptly rolled his eyes and twirled a finger next to his head which clearly said, _"boy, isn't he crazy?" _

"The day Dana Barrett sees something in Venkman is the day Hell freezes over," Ray murmured aloud, so that only Egon could hear. "Personally _I'm _surprised Dana hasn't stuck it where it counts where Peter's concerned."

Egon smirked in agreement. "She will sooner or later, Raymond," he said. "It's kind of a given when you're in a relationship with a guy like that."

"Yeah," Ray laughed. "Right. But anyway," he went on, sitting next to Egon on his left side. (They must've carried him to his bed, he realized, noticing the familiar landmarks of the Ghostbusters HQ living quarters.) "How're you feelin', Spengs?"

"Like the floor of a taxi cab," Egon replied. He distinctly recalled making the same comment after they had roasted Mr. Stay Puft. It just seemed appropriate now as well, he decided, even without being buried in the remains of a monstrous marshmallow man.

Ray chuckled grimly and nodded. "Sorry to hear," he said. "It's just good to see you awake again, pal. Frankly, we were all starting to get worried about ya'."

"I wasn't talking in my sleep again, was I?" Egon found himself asking. "I realize that I may have the bothersome tendency to verbalize certain aspects of my subconscious which-"

"No, no, it wasn't anything like that, Spengler," Ray interrupted gently, holding up a hand. "You fainted, and were out for nearly three days straight. _That's_ why we were worried. We were considering contacting the hospital at one point, even."

"Oh," Egon said. "I see. But I can assure you I do not need medical attention. I am perfectly fine."

Despite being wrong in his first assumption (that he had been delirious and was talking in his unconscious state) Egon still felt a flare of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. And he felt like a fool, too, for not being stronger for his fellow Ghostbusters, and for lying right in the face of one of his colleagues. But three days? That was ridiculous! He couldn't stand being cast in the awkward spotlight like that. He was supposed to be the quiet member of the group, fixing things here and there, giving his input when it was acquired or sometimes even appreciated. He was not the damsel in distress, someone who the others flocked on and cossetted over to no end.

In any case, he was _not _the weak one who needed constant care and supervision. He was a grown man - he could handle himself.

"Well, thank you very much, Raymond," Egon finally said. "And you too, Venkman," he added reluctantly. "I think I'll go down to my lab now and see how you all have kept the place up in my absence."

Determined to show them both that he was in control of his fate and his life, he pulled off the blanket that had been slung over his body and made to stand up. But all of sudden, a sickeningly familiar pain rocketed through his leg, sending him down onto the bed again in the course of mere seconds. He winced, hunching over as he bit his lips forcefully. He had, quite stupidly, forgotten about the injury he had acquired three days before. He had been so caught up in proving his worth to himself and to the others, that he'd disregarded one of the most important things right now that could possibly impede his goal.

The pain, he noted after some time, had dulled considerably in the passing days, but it did not prevent the fresh wave of torment he was experiencing from crashing over him, threatening to bring forbidden tears to his eyes. He continued to lean over the edge of his bed for a few moments as Ray patted his back and attempting to console him.

Suddenly, however, a cylindrical shape was pushed into Egon's trembling hands. After a minute of groping with the object, he realized it was a small metal trash can.

"Throw up in there if you have to, Spengs," Peter's voice directly in front of him advised. "Just aim it down and not forward at me or Momma Hen there beside you, okay?"

Egon nodded and lowered his head a couple inches into the trash can, waiting to see if his churning stomach would decide to cooperate. In the course of his waiting he heard two new pairs of feet entering the room, which were soon identified as belonging to Winston and Janine.

"You feelin' any better, man?" Winston asked, one of the many questions he had for Egon in the following fifteen minutes of uncertainty. They were inquiries which Egon tried to answer honestly - but the one problem he could not tell him, or really any of them, was that all of his pain was the result of a severely broken ankle. He simply couldn't find the courage to admit that he was inefficient and helpless. Divulging this newfound secret, he knew, would disillusion those he cared about - they would think of him as a coward, as a weak-willed and pitiful excuse for a man living in a secluded jungle of science, research and test tubes, with nothing to live for but the world of knowledge to soothe his lonely soul.

Which was why he had to hide his pain. . .not just for himself, but for the sake of his friends. There was just no room for weakness in the machinations of the paranormal world in which he and his team had immersed themselves. And where there _was _weakness, there had to be the strength to overcome it.

A lesson he was now failing miserably at.

After Winston finished questioning him, Egon listened as he and the others milled about, anxiously shuffling papers or else tinkering with nearby objects which he could not see. His stomach eventually settled enough that he was able to open his eyes again. He noticed a couple things right away.

Firstly, that his team members had mysteriously left the room without a sound.

And second, that Janine was now sitting next to him instead of Ray, rubbing a gentle hand over the length of his back.

**Author's Note: **

**Wow. This took me longer than I thought. **

**For those of you who have reviewed and/or followed this story, thank you so much for your support. And thanks must also go out to Whovian-Trekkie, whose PM urged me a little bit further to complete this next installment. My sincerest gratitude. :)**

**There will at least one of two more parts to this particular story, one being the last (and the fluffiest) the other perhaps being an epilogue of sorts. At this point I am not quite certain, but we'll just have to see. **

**I hope this story does not seem too drawn out - I just wanted to lay down some of Egon's personal thoughts on strengths and weaknesses before *finally* getting on with the fluffy sections with him and Janine. **

**Also, I am planning on writing a much larger story which may play on a few elements set down in this one. For those of you who are interested, this new story will called "_The Demon and Dr. Spengler,_" and it will deal with Egon being possessed, with the other Ghostbusters and Janine fighting to bring him back and purge the demon which is controlling him. The story will have what I hope are some interesting and unexpected twists, so once the next one or two parts of this are complete, be on the look out for this new story! I hope you will not be disappointed by it, and have not been disappointed with "_Hard to Break" _so far either!**


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Egon started to blush despite himself. Then, pulling himself together, he cleared his throat awkwardly and ducked his head in the trash can again, in the hopes of convincing his new. . ._visitor. . ._that his "sick spell" was not quite over.

But this swift cover-up must've been a rather feeble one, for Janine was beginning to blush as well.

"No need to be nervous, Egon," she said sweetly. Her hand traveled upward to rest between his shoulder blades - an action which made his breath hitch and his body stiffen, and the ever-present flush in his cheeks simmer beneath his skin with fiery embarrassment.

"I told the guys to scram so you could have some breathing room," Janine remarked, giggling. "You shoulda seen the way they were fessin' over you for the past three days. 'Specially Venkman. He's been a real sweetheart!"

Egon looked at her, eyes widening in a fashion that seemed to say, _"You're kidding." _

Janine giggled again and shrugged.

"I'm just as surprised as you are," she said. "But at least it's good to know our resident jerk has a heart of gold beneath his tough exterior."

Egon's mouth quirked into a faint smile. "Peter, a good-hearted saint? That'll be the day."

They both laughed for awhile at this, and as they sat side by side Egon grew more comfortable. The pain in his ankle, meanwhile, had subsided to a faint twinge of protest.

He had to admit, he had never felt as relaxed as he was now, particularly in the presence of a woman. Usually this sort of easygoing conversation with the female population brought out the more reserved and technical aspects of his persona, a side of him which many sought to avoid.

But this time it was different. He was smiling, laughing, even joking around - three things he rarely achieved all in one day, much less within the course of a few minutes. Perhaps with the absence of his fellow team members, the need to loosen up was a bit greater, allowing his cold, calculating mask to fall away in order for his true self to peek through. But did he even know, or _wish_ to know, his true self? Could he truly rely on such an unpredictable force? And what would happen if he let his heart, rather than his mind, influence his everyday thoughts and intentions?

Egon took a deep breath, shoving these pressing matters aside for a moment. Then he straightened up on the bed and, carefully minding not to move his left leg, placed the metal trash can the guys had given him in its customary spot beside his bed stand. As he did his gaze swept over the familiar tabletop items: notebooks and pencils, research papers, the spare set of glasses he kept nearby in case of an accident (or, even, a prank), his favorite lamp molded into the shape of a lighthouse. Even a copy of _Tobin's Spirit Guide _was there, worn at the edges from age and use yet infinitely valuable.

And finally, on top of the _Guide, _there rested the same package of Hostess Twinkies Peter had brought for him earlier. The plastic wrap reflected the mid-morning sunlight that streamed an open window, slightly obscuring the delicious cakes within.

So without thinking, Egon quickly grabbed the package, ripped it open, and took a large, satisfying out of one of the cream-filled confections. It was moist and creamy, coating every inch of his mouth with sugary goodness. It wasn't until he stuffed the rest of it into his mouth that he realized how hungry he must've been, despite his physical injury and its subsequent mental side effects. He was now only too grateful that Peter's sudden compassion had offered him a temporary salvation from his weakened state.

Making a mental note to personally thank his colleague later, Egon soon finished off the second Twinkie, and threw the plastic wrapper away. He saw that Janine was grinning from ear to ear when he once again met her gaze.

"Glad to see you're feelin' better, Egon," she said. She wrapped an arm around him and pulled herself close in a semi-hug. The she quickly let go, and stood up.

"But you still need some rest, mister, so don't let me catch you bustin' any ghosts while my back's turned!" she added. "I'll just be downstairs if you need anything, though. Don't hesitant to yell."

And with that, Janine turned and strolled away, leaving Egon to stare after her with a dazed and boyish grin.

* * *

Peter was lurking by Janine's desk when she entered the main lobby area, discreetly glancing at a pile of papers she had organized there as if searching for something scandalous or provocative. Sighing irritably, she sashayed over to him, looked him up and down for a moment, and promptly shoved his burly figure a good five feet into a filing cabinet.

"Hey, easy on the football moves there, sweetheart," he called, righting himself just as he threatened to trip over. "I don't wanna get permanent brain damage!" He then started readjusting the casual gray T-shirt and black sweatpants he had managed to slip into a few moments before, something akin to hurt pride pinching his features.

"With all due respect, Dr. Venkman," Janine replied as she sat down, making herself at home. "Your present state of mind is already cause for much concern."

"What, you callin' me crazy? Nuts-o?" Peter shot back with mock-menace. "Well, you haven't seen _nothing _yet, buttercup!"

"Is that a _threat, _Dr. Venkman?" Janine asked, raising a challenging eyebrow just as Ray strolled in. He had abandoned his casual outfit (a ragged, navy blue tank-top and Loony Tunes boxer-shorts, in this case) and was now decked out in his Ghostbusters uniform. A proton pack was slung over his back. Behind him, Winston had dressed himself the same way - ditching the laid-back garments of a red, open-necked V shirt and camouflage pants - and was shrugging into his own pack.

"No time for fighting now, ladies," Ray admonished, throwing a smirk at Peter when he gave him the stink-eye. "We have business to attend to."

"So soon?" Peter said. He adopted an innocent puppy-dog look. "What about poor Spengs?"

" "_Poor Spengs_" is stayin' right here, boys," Janine retorted firmly. "The paranormal underworld you all mess around in ain't no place for him right now. He needs tender, love and care. . .he needs to be taken care of and comforted."

"Ooooh," Peter drawled out playfully, a wide grin spreading across his features. "Someone's gotta crush!"

Ray choked down a laugh at this, and Winston just looked away, resisting the urge to smile. At a murderous look from Janine, however, their faces fell and they composed themselves in short order.

"That's very funny, Venkman," she snapped. "Unfortunately _I _fail to see the humor." Electing to ignore him, she pulled open one of her desk drawers, retrieved a magazine, and began to read.

After a long moment of silence, however, she couldn't help but peer over the top of the volume, and found that Peter's face was right behind it, eyes locked with her just a few centimeters away. By the crinkle that appeared around his eyes, she knew that he was smiling with obvious triumph.

Janine lowered her magazine to find Peter doing just that, leaning close in a way that invoked discomfort. And as she continued to meet his strangely penetrating gaze, he edged closer still, until they were almost touching noses.

"I knew it," he said softly, pausing for dramatic effect. Then he went on. "Your heart, dear lady, beats for the sweet passions of Dr. Egon Spengler."

Another pause. Then, finally:

"You're in love with him, Janine."

* * *

Egon was drifting off to sleep again when he heard a loud slam coming from downstairs, followed by a procession of warbling, cracking noises. Jolted awake, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and tried rolling out of bed.

It was surprisingly easy to find his footing and stand up - his leg muscles must've gone into shock, for he no longer felt any pain; just a dull stiffness running from his foot up to the left side of his pelvis. But while he did not feel the pain, he was smart enough to know that this new development was not a particularly positive one, and would possibly only get worse as it progressed without treatment.

But this was not a pressing concern, Egon reminded himself. What was more important, was figuring out just what in the name of Stephen Hawking his colleague had gotten themselves into now.

Sighing, he grabbed _Tobin's Spirit Guide _and hobbled his way out of the room. If things came to a head, he would need one of the best weapons in the Ghostbusters arsenal.

_'And that,' _Egon thought proudly. _'Is knowledge.'_

* * *

Walking downstairs proved to be a rather easier experience than Egon thought it would. But climbing back _up _them, however, would be a completely different story.

It didn't matter, Egon decided as he turned left towards the lobby area. Ascending a flight and a half of stairs was the least of his worries. No, the first and foremost worry he had at the moment was the produce of what he was currently seeing before him: complete and utter chaos.

Papers and furniture were scattered everywhere. Chairs with snapped off legs and burnt cushions smoked silently against a backdrop of upturned filing cabinets, soiled portfolios, and a flaming computer. Just a couple feet away from where Egon stood, Ray, Peter and Winston were huddled behind an upturned table. Ray and Winston were clothed in their uniforms, but only Winston carried his proton pack. Peter was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, and was nursing a rather nasty bruise on his forehead.

When they all saw him, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and horror, Peter lowering his hand in the process to reveal a small smudge of blood welling up from a cut hidden by the angry blemish he had procured.

Egon opened his mouth to ask them what the hell had happened, when his gaze suddenly fastened onto the trembling form of Janine a few feet away. She looked shaken and pale, her glasses askew, hair a ruffled mess. She also seemed to be wearing one of the proton packs (perhaps Ray's even, he deduced). The neutrona wand was in her hands, humming in such a way that he knew it must've been recently fired.

Shock was really the only word that could accurately describe Egon's reaction. He had never imagined that the smart-mouthed but good-natured secretary could be pushed over the edge like this. What could his fellow Ghostbusters have possibly done to anger her so?

Then it hit him: Venkman. Of course! One of his ignorant and obnoxious comments must've hit a little too close to home; now she was trying to get payback. Egon smirked - he couldn't help but feel amused by this display. Peter was finally getting what he deserved, and from a particularly unexpected source to boot!

"Good job," he said aloud, trying to diffuse the tension a bit. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Way to stand up to Peter, and-"

All of a sudden, however, a blazing streak of light leaped from the wand, soaring above the Ghostbusters' heads. It burned a table in its way, making it buckle inwards - then it moved upward and took out some of the staircase and ceiling. The team ducked their heads and closed their eyes, until finally Janine powered off Ray's pack, and the resulting dust storm settled.

Peter, of course, had to open his big fat mouth again. "This chick's wacko, Egon!" he exclaimed. "You need to calm her the hell down before she reverses our atoms."

"Why do _I_ have to be the one to calm her down, Peter?" Egon shot back with a glare.

His colleague was dead serious when he answered back with, "Well, you're her boyfriend, aren't you? She'll listen to you better than any one of us."

For once, Egon was struck speechless. Boyfriend? _Boyfriend? _He and Janine weren't. . .it wasn't. . .how could Peter. . .

"Shut the hell up, Venkman!" Janine yelled, halting any further thoughts Egon might have had as she shot another proton stream directly at Peter's head. He quickly ducked, however, the stream passing harmlessly through the empty space where his head had previously sat. The table from earlier was not as fortunate, in this case, for its legs crumbled away and the whole surface of it caught ablaze.

"Miss Melnitz, you've made your point!" Egon tried. Perhaps he could force some peace and logic into this unstable situation - first, by addressing her in the proper and professional manner.

But Janine merely shot daggers at him - although her initial anger seemed to have abated somewhat. Now she simply looked tired and ruffled, like an upset peacock.

Defeated, it seemed, she dropped the proton wand and began shrugging off Ray's pack, until she was holding it by one of the straps. Then she gently lowered it to the ground and stepped towards Egon.

He smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you," he said approvingly. "I'm glad we-"

The slap he received in the face then made all other words escape him. The next moment, before he could regain any sense of rational thought, Janine pressed her lips against his. There was an urgency and passion in her embrace, as well as anger. When she pulled away, her cheeks were burning crimson red and furious tears were beginning to streak down her face.

Embarrassed and horrified, she turned and darted up the stairs, out of sight.

Egon watched her go then turned to his team, his own cheeks flushed. The others didn't seem amused - only as shocked and confused as he felt by the turn of events.

"I. . .I think Janine and I just kissed," he managed to say at last.

**Author's Note**

**Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoyed this! Took me forever to get it typed up; I did a rough draft of this before hand and had to do a lot of editing along the way. Any comments are appreciated. :) **


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Two strangely uneventful days passed by after the proton pack incident - and during that time, Egon's condition only became worse. He was feeling intense pain again as well as terrible stiffness, and had taken to vomiting quite profusely.

The rest of the team was struggling to hold it together, having to juggle their time between the occasional bust and taking care of the bed-ridden brainiac, as well as carrying on with important research and more recently, dealing with lawsuits from various people and companies regarding the incident with Gozer.

Janine also lent a hand whenever she could, but she often seemed distant, and at times completely detached. Egon wondered if it had to do with Peter's immature antics, or whether it was something he himself had done to upset her. But when he asked her about it, he couldn't really get a response either way - just an_ "I'm fine,"_ or_ "It's nothing, Egon, but thanks for your concern anyway,"_ and then she'd retreat back into her shell, sad and quiet.

This troubled Egon greatly, and for many reasons. Firstly - that Janine was avoiding social interaction; which was very unusual, because she was_ always _sociable, and always had something to say, regardless of the discussion or topic. She even liked to listen to Egon and strike up a conversation. Unlike most people he had met, she actually cared about what he had to say, and would sometimes pop down into the basement to check up on him when he was working on a project.

Which was why his second reason for being concerned. . .was that _he _was probably the cause of all this.

Peter may have irked Janine, certainly, but she had been angered with Egon too. Why else would she have slapped him in the face, or. . .well. . ._kissed _him, for that matter? Was she embarrassed because Egon didn't react a certain way? Or had she just been embarrassed because she had kissed him in front of the rest of the team?

Whatever was wrong, though, Egon felt guilty and knew that somehow, things had to be fixed. The big questions were when and how.

* * *

Another day passed. It was Saturday now - and Egon was insisting on returning to work. The guys tried talking him out of it, saying he still wasn't well, but his decision was firm and final. With much reluctance they finally gave in, and permitted Egon to join them on their next case.

Ray was especially glad to have his brainy colleague back in action. He was really the only one who knew how to operate the PKE meter properly (Peter had managed to break Ray's PKE Model B prototype, and Ray himself had caused the original to malfunction on their last bust). Egon also had an extensive knowledge of the layout of Manhattan, which made finding shortcuts and safer back roads a far easier task. Plus, Egon helped the others focus better - even when the poor guy was scared shitless himself. That served to remind them all of how real the situation was. All in all, though, he was valuable asset to the team.

Egon may have been eager to get back into the regular ghostbusting schedule, but oddly, the phone remained silent for quite some time. At the moment, Egon himself was situated at Janine's desk, random components of the original (now damaged) PKE meter scattered about its surface. An attachable set of magnifying lenses hung against the right side frame of his glasses, allowing a better view of the device's innards as he poked and prodded around. Ray sat in a fold-out chair to his colleague's left, offering his assistance when it was needed. Peter sat behind them at his own personal desk, feet propped up, eyes skimming gleefully over a cheap and not-so-family-friendly magazine. Winston and Janine had not as of yet joined them.

"Almost done," Egon murmured. A few moments later, that was indeed the case. "There," he said, passing the PKE to Ray. "It should be fine now."

With a couple basic prods on the buttons, the device hummed to life in Ray's hand. "Good work, Spengler," he praised, before handing it back over with an apologetic smile. "I'll, uh, make sure to be careful with it next time."

"_If_ there's a next time," Egon replied with a glare, putting severe emphasis on the word "if." Ray merely ducked his head in embarassment and elected to remain silent.

Peter peered at them over his mag and wolf-whistled. "Damn, Egon, you're a fiesty fella! No wonder the ladies dig you."

"Too bad you don't have the same charming characteristics, Venkman. If you did, maybe then you could finally win your true love Dana," Egon smirked.

Ray stifled a laugh and was only partially successful. "Nice one," he said under his breath.

Peter, however, visibly bristled. "One more crack like that Spengler, and I'll break your leg," he threatened.

Egon's face fell, the severity of his predicament coming back to him full force. The others still didn't know about his injury, yet far from being weighed down by it, he had thrown himself into normal work again like nothing had happened. The only problem he was facing was how to keep pulling this off without making his team suspicious, or worse...worried. And now Peter, jokingly or not, was threatening to break his leg, which brought another question and concern to Egon's mind.

How long could he truly keep his injury a secret?

"Sorry," Egon said finally, relenting to Peter's anger (and ego). "But just let the record show that I was kidding, nothing more."

Peter glared at him for another moment before turning his attention back to his magazine. "Good then," he grumbled. "My love life isn't any concern of yours. Janine's the only one _you_ need to worry about, Egon. . ."

* * *

With the PKE meter fixed, and a new case to wrestle with in short order, Ray, Winston, Peter and Egon had soon thrown on their jumpsuits and were flying out the doors in the Ecto-1. Surprisingly, this latest sighting was at the Sedgewick Hotel, where they had captured their first ghost. Reports from the head of staff (who still seemed fairly disgruntled by their last job effort) had claimed the paranormal disturbances were being caused by the same, green blob of a monster which had for years given the hotel trouble. Ray figured the little spud must've escaped from the containment unit when that idiot Walter Peck had caused it to explode. He only hoped this time around would be much easier, especially since they had acquired a better understanding of how the proton packs worked.

They pulled up to the hotel and quickly got out, slinging on their packs. Then they walked into the lobby, and stopped to survey the scene.

To say the least, it was chaos. People were cowering on the floor, others gripping their children and running to find a safe haven; some were just standing transfixed, looking upward at the ceiling, where their quarry was crashing from chandelier to chandelier, leaving sticky coatings of ectoplasm on whatever it touched. The menacing blob itself seemed to have gone crazy, for it zoomed around in an uncontrollable fashion, its body twitching in an odd way like an electric current was running through it. The head of staff was standing to their immediate left, pressed fearfully against a wall.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" he breathed upon seeing them. He slunk quickly towards them, but kept to the wall. "It's gone beserk! It's never done this before, I assure you. . .I'm just as shocked as you must be. Usually it's just hung around the buffet tables and not bothered anyone. . ."

"Not to worry, sir," Ray said, patting his shoulder out of sympathy for the fearful man. "We'll take care of this roaming vapor for you ASAP."

The head of staff's face hardened a little, as if he were remembering the last time the Ghostbusters had done a service for the hotel. "You had better, gentlemen, and quickly," he snapped. "Another mess like your last ghost-ridding endeavor and your payment shall suffer."

"Oh, don't worry, we'll keep this place from a-tumbling down," Peter promised, then added with a wink, "But keep in mind that the little slime bucket may not be as cooperative."

* * *

The "little slime bucket," as Peter had called it had moved from the lobby to the ballroom, where Peter, Egon and Ray had captured it before. It was crashing against the silverware, plates, and tables wildly, and of course, leaving its ectoplasmic discharge over everything it touched.

"And so we tangle again, Slimer," Peter growled in a slightly Western kind of accent as he unholstered his proton wand.

"'Slimer'?" Ray repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Venkman?"

"All cretins deserve a nickname," Peter argued, then broke out in a smug grin. "Take my beautiful self, for example. Some ladies like to refer to me as "the Jerkhole" or "Captain Dickless.""

"I thought we decided Walter Peck was the one who had no dick," Winston replied, to which all the guys burst out laughing. A sudden screech halted their laughter fairly quickly, however, and in a matter of seconds they were all alert, wands out and raised. "Slimer" was nowhere to be seen, but the team could hear his unintelligible mutterings somewhere further out in the room as it lay hidden.

"Here, Slimy, Slimy, Slimy," Peter called out, switching his pack on. The others started doing the same. "Uncle Venky just wants to gets his revenge and blast your puny, ectoplasmic guts to kingdom come."

Egon shot Peter a look of irritation. "You're going to scare it off, Peter," he warned.

"I'm ready to piss my pants and you think the radioactive potato is frightened?" came the harsh reply. "Some logic you got there, Spengs. . ."

An abrupt hand gesture from Ray, who was in front of him, silenced the soon-to-be rant. "Listen," he whispered. "Do you smell something?"

Peter opened his mouth to supply an answer, but Winston smacked him in the back of the head lightly before the aspiring thought could form and be spoken. Egon smirked but said nothing, instead moving forward with Ray as his colleague edged toward a cart covered with lidded metal trays. One of the trays had begun to tremble slightly, and glowing a faint, sick green hue.

"Rotten poultry?" Peter suggested. "I've seen chickens run around with their heads cut off before. I mean seriously, dead birds can do some weird-"

"Shhh!" his three colleagues hissed in unison.

Annoyed, Peter pantomimed sealing his lips with a lock and key. If they didn't like his humor, then that was their loss. He was just trying to keep himself calm and not turn into a agitated, frightened mess.

Slowly, Ray reached his hand out to the metal lid, then stopped. He glanced uncertainly at Egon, who nodded with unease, then at Winston, who mouthed "Go ahead." Peter had turned his attention away and was gazing at the chandelier above them like it was the most captivating thing in the world.

Ray, still anxious, turned back to the glowing lid and decided to count. "One. . .two. . .THREE!"

He then gripped the lid and flung it aside. The green blob dubbed Slimer instantly lunged at Ray and grasped him by the ears, screeching as it did so. Ray soon let out a not-so-manly scream himself.

"GET IT OFF!" he cried. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET IT OFF ME!"

"I'll handle this, Ray!" Egon assured as he raised his wand and was preparing to throw out his stream. However, Peter's arm prevented him from following through with his intention.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up a sec!" Peter protested. "That thing's got a hold of his face, Egon. One wrong move and he won't _have _a face!"

"Well, what do you suggest then?" Egon snapped. He wasn't sure why he felt so angry all of a sudden as he added, "Maybe instead of berating me for trying to help Ray you should put that stupid mouth of yours to work on a halfway useful plan!"

Peter looked genuinely taken aback. Egon was about to apologize when Peter's features hardened coldly. "I don't know why the hell you're acting like this, but I suggest _you_ think of a plan and not shove the responsibility on me," he countered. "I don't have the answer or solution to everything, you know. That's _your_ department."

"Like hell you don't have a solution!" Egon spat, shoving his proton wand into Peter's ribcage. "You can't even treat women like they're human beings, Venkman. If you can't figure out how sick and wrong that is, then you sure as hell can't figure it how to do your job properly!"

"Blast me, Spengler. . .I dare you," Peter growled. He dug his own wand into Egon's stomach. "God, I just _dare_ you."

A loud groan brought the two men back to reality in a heartbeat. Turning, they watched dumbfounded as Ray - head, face and shoulders covered in slime - stood up and leaned against Winston for support.

"Well, while you two assholes were busy exchanging venom," Winston said bluntly upon seeing Egon's and Peter's surprised looks, "that strange blob freaked out and disappeared. You probably scared it away with your ridiculous shouting."

The two colleagues' faces reddened, and they exchanged embarrassed looks. "Sorry," they mumbled, almost simultaneously.

"No, it was me, I started it," Egon said softly, head bowed. "I became angry for no reason. Please forgive me, Peter."

"I'll think about it," Peter responded flatly, before turning and heading for a set of double doors they led into one of the hallways. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder. "Let's catch this snot rag once and for all."

**Author's Notes:**

**Sorry for the long wait with this chapter! I had a previous fifth part on here that I was not pleased with, so had to take it down and rewrite it. Hopefully this one makes a bit more sense. :)**

**So. . .it's nearly the end. A sort of epilogue will follow this, and then I can begin to shift my focus to my next Ghostbusters project, "The Demon and Dr. Spengler." I hope you all will enjoy that one as you may have enjoyed "Hard to Break." I've been really eager to start the Demon story for awhile now! It's another part of my tribute to the wonderful Harold Ramis, as this was, especially since "Demon" deals with such themes as death and grief. Once HtB is finally finished (soon, I hope) then work shall commence on the prologue to "Demon."**

**Comments on this are, as always appreciated. Thank you. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_Epilogue_

The team spent the better part of an hour tracking down their spud of interest, but eventually, the trail turned up cold. Slimer, as Peter insisted on calling him, was nowhere to be seen - other than trace PKE readings recorded by Egon, there was no indication it had been there at all. Unless one counted the damage in the lobby and new breakfast hall, which were in a state of ruins.

"This is utterly ridiculous!" the hotel manager fumed when they had returned to the lobby via elevator. "How do expect to fix this damage? My staff and I shall certainly not lift a finger in this matter! Oh, no, this falls on your shoulders, gentlemen. _You_ are the ones who must take responsibility."

Peter wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, especially not this guy. He said as much out loud.

"Don't blame us for this," he growled. "You're the one who couldn't deal with that little freak yourself. So don't call us up everytime you got a problem and expect us to bust our asses for next to nothing in payment. As far as I'm concerned, though, the matter is done. The spud's left your place to go hell knows where, so be happy for once. And stop being such a tight-assed jerk. I think everyone will thank you for it, eventually."

They left the hotel manager in a rage and threatening to sue the Ghostbusters for every meager penny the company had. Ray, Winston and Egon were more worried about this than Peter was, and discussed it quite anxiously all the way back to the firehouse. Their colleague had decided to stay out of it completely, not bothering about a damn thing, which was fine by them.

As the Ecto-1 pulled into the building half an hour later, Egon considered his situation, both with Peter and his ankle. The pain had started to get worse at the hotel, and now it was a constant reminder that he was inadequate and pretty much unable to do his job properly. On the other hand, he currently had one of his closest friends and colleagues hating his guts, for insulting him personally as well as his "sort-of-not-really-girlfriend" Ms. Barrett.

The whole situation sickened Egon. Dana had strictly been a client to him, perhaps even an acquaintance upon whom he could communicate and socialize. To Peter, he knew, she was a sex object, something to toy around with, something to manipulate. But Dana would have none of it - a door in the face, a biting remark, or a kick to the crotch. . .any would serve her well in deterring Peter's dangerous flirtations, which Egon knew had swayed many an ignorant woman back at Columbia University. She was desperate to be rid of her smooth-talking stalker. Egon couldn't blame her.

Yet, at the same time, there had been something else going on. The couple occasions Dana had visited the firehouse, Egon had sensed something between her and Peter, something strange. One of them would say something or get this dreamy look in their eyes, and for a moment it seemed as if they had known each other forever. It both unsettled Egon and made him envious.

The rational, reasoning half of his psyche, beaten into order by years of disciplined childhood, told him that Dana's and Peter's relation was strictly lustful and born of passive-aggression on his team member's part, and that it would not last past a couple weeks, if it continued in this manner. A month tops.

The weaker, less-refined threads of his mind - influenced by outside forces beyond what his parents had taught him - particularly from his colleagues - overlooked all that and saw only the simple, unspoken love in the pair, struggling to become real and true. It opened up a void in him that he didn't know he had, a void left unfilled all his life by anyone except, perhaps, his mother. But even her love had been dampened by his father's cold, unmoving heart, which had controlled him for as long as he could remember.

His father was the reason why he was so detached, and devoted to his work. His father was the reason why he was so serious, critical, and socially impaired. His father was why he felt no genuine love for another human being, or felt anything at all, really. Satisfaction, fascination, curiosity - these were essential in the world of science. Love, laughter and happiness were not.

Yet Egon had learned otherwise over the years. He had broken down the walls his father had built in his mind, and had begun to live like a normal human being. He could now joke around with the best of them (he still had his moments when intended humorous statements left his audience staring at him blankly). He also knew friendship and kindness - two things he had lacked considerably as a child.

A conspicuous absence of companions, as well as the cool, indifferent mask put up by his father in his early years, had succeeded in leaving their scars upon Egon. He still drove people away, of course, for they were wary of his eccentric ways and unfeeling attitude. Such qualities labeled him as a freak - a gifted one, no doubt, who had graduated from high school at the age of fifteen. Things would've been perfectly fine if Elon hadn't told their father that Egon was not only interested in science and psychology, but also parapsychology - the study of the spiritual world.

Of course, Father had been furious when he found out Egon had been studying the paranormal behind his back. Such an act was a disgrace to the Spengler name, he had roared at the then teenage Egon. No child of his would waste his intelligence reading ghost stories or inventing ridiculous machines to try and detect them. It was not logical, not the Spengler way. Egon was a dishonor to the family, but most of all, to his father.

And hence the day soon came that Egon was written off by his father, his mother (influenced by his father, no doubt) and even his siblings. He had been effectively disowned and deserted, and left on his own by those who, he came to realize, never had it in their genes to care for him.

It had been twenty years now that Egon had ceased all contact with his family. Not once had he felt sorrow or remorse for the loss. Not once.

Not until now, that is.

Egon got out of the Ecto-1 without a word and hobbled upstairs to the bedroom, praying no one would follow him or try to talk to him. He thought he heard Ray call his name as he ascended to the second floor, but he was too exhausted to answer or really make certain that his colleague had spoken at all. He just wanted to sleep this whole thing off, forget it ever happen, and get on with his plain and straightforward existence as a human being.

To hell with Peter and Ray and Winston, to hell with Dana and Zuul and Vinz Clortho, to hell with his family. And to hell with Janine's love for him. He was sick of them of all. He just wanted them to go away forever - these demons, these phantoms who sought to rip him apart at the seams. He was done.

Egon collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes. He lay on his side toward the window, with his back to the open doorway. After awhile he felt sick and sat up, rubbing his aching head. No sooner had he leaned over to rest one arm against his good leg that he released the meager contents of his stomach, which happened to be the only thing he'd eaten since the battle with Gozer. Twinkies.

He doubled over, coughing and gagging painfully for many minutes. He wouldn't have been surprised if he threw up an organ - in fact, he almost wished he could. It might've made him feel better.

This was getting out of hand. He realized that even as he remembered what a cold jerk Peter had been since their lateat bust. It didn't help him conscience to know that their containment grid had been fired. Thankfully there had been no harmful residues left behind - just some low level PKE readings and some mild radiation which posed no threat. He and Ray had already started drawing up some new plans for a bigger facility just yesterday. So long as Walter Peck stayed clear of the work, everything would - hopefully - run more smoothly than last time. The fate of New York was riding on it.

Egon eventually fell asleep, though his dreams were chaotic and strange. Once during the night, half-awake and half-not, he swore he heard a woman's comforting voice, and then felt someone's lips brushing his forehead. When he peered out blearily to look, there was no one there. Just the moon peeking out through a cloud-ridden sky, glowing marvelously. Shifting onto his back, he closed his eyes again and fell this time into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Egon spent Sunday and Monday in bed. Ray, Winston and occasionally Janine checked on him, but for the most part he waved them away, insisted he was fine, he didn't need help, and he didn't need to go to the hospital. He told them all that it was the shock. He had a hard time dealing with stressful situations at times (as Ray was certainly more aware out any of them) and just needed time to calm down, collect his thoughts, and get back on track. No more busting for him for awhile.

In the meantime he could continue making improvements on the ghost trap. Since the original multi-spectral storage grid had been damaged, he and Ray had worked some modifications into the traps, allowing them to capture more ghosts and still be able to contain them indefinitely as in the original. The traps were good for this anyway of course, but they still had their limits, which was a problem at the moment. Hence their task.

So far, six traps had been modified. The other four, mainly prototypes already in the works, would also get the upgrade in time. But for now, the main six would serve them well.

Now, with this work done, Egon could finally go back to his lab and continue his much beloved study of spores, molds and fungus. None of his specimens seemed to have been affected by the grid's minor flood of psychokinetic energy or radiation, a fact for which he was grateful. Since his incident he had been down there with his precious collection, checking for radiation damage, fertilizing and nurturing certain growths, and generally studying their development.

As Egon was examining a particularly furry growth blossoming on the surface of a tomato, he heard a pair of footsteps descend into the lab. Not even looking up, he said, "You can just set those soil samples on the table, Ray."

"Wrong 'Buster," a female voice replied.

Turning his head in surprise, Egon saw that the figure before him was indeed not Ray but instead, Janine. "Oh," he said in a small voice, swallowing uncomfortably. "Hello. Did you need something?"

At this inquiry, Janine crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and scowled. "Is something the matter with you, Egon?" she said.

It wasn't much the wording than the way she said it that stung Egon. Clearing his throat, he unhooked his special magnifying lenses from his glasses, put them down on top of his notepad, and stepped toward her. He made his best effort to walk slowly and not give his injury away.

"No," he answered, a bit too firmly and stiffly for his own liking. "What gave you that idea?"

"You've been limping," Janine said, giving his left leg a worried look.

"Cramps," Egon countered calmly, covering his wince at this comment with a cough. "And bruises. Mainly due to shock and from performing a rather dangerous act to save the world. That's all."

Janine shook her head in dismay. "There's something more to it than that," she said. "I know it. Please, Egon, tell me what's wrong. I've been worried about you."

"Oh, and you show your concern by avoiding me at almost every turn and making me feel like shit?" Egon growled, in an uncharacteristically angry and sarcastic tone. "Right, thanks. This must be "insult and abuse the brainiac" week or something."

"Oh Egon." Janine stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. He swiftly pulled away, though, glaring at her.

"Don't," he warned, turning his back on her distraught face. "Just. . .don't."

"Egon. . ." she tried.

"No, Janine!" He rounded on her, teeth barred. "I've had it with you! Had it with everyone! I can take care of myself, and if you all just want to throw dirt in my face, then go ahead. Be my guest. It's not like I'm a human being who has actually possesses feelings or anything. I'm just a machine. A freak. No one gives a damn what I think as long as it's intelligent and scientifically worthwhile. But oh, guess what? People criticize me for just being smart, too, while they go around and boast their ignorance because they believe they're more socially superior. And I hate it!"

The words exploded out of Egon, words and emotions he had kept bottled up for so long that he hadn't known how to express them until this very moment. Now that it was coming out, he didn't want to stop. He had oppressed himself all his life because of his father's discipline - now it was time to tear those walls down.

"It isn't easy being me," he went on, his flushed face cooling a little as he collected himself. "I know I'm not the most ideal person to have a normal relationship with. I'm awkward, straightforward, and very much what people refer to as a "nerd" or "geek." I love science. I love studying the paranormal. But to some like my father, they think it is a waste of time - at least the supernatural aspect. Ever since I was a boy I wanted to know more about ghosts and spiritual entities. I mostly read and did my research in secret. I kept textbooks hidden in my mattress and under the floorboards of my room. I even took up a couras in high school, and managed to cover it up from my father by explaining it was a required topic in normal psychology that consumed an entire period of the day and thus had to be taught separately.

"Well, he bought it for a little while - until I started tinkering with machines, trying to get them to work as ghost-tracking systems. Then he became suspicious. It wasn't until I finally graduated that his worst fears were confirmed - his son had became a true believer in the paranormal. So, after yelling and screaming at me that I had disgraced the family and destroyed any hope of becoming a true scientist, he declared I was no longer welcome as his son. He essentially threw me out onto the street with the few necessities I needed and told me to continue "ruining" my life, because it was my choice, my _failure,_ that had made it so. And that's when I said so long and walked away, doing exactly what I wanted to do - and that was being a scientist and researcher of the paranormal, beyond the control of my father. Yet it hardly matters now, does it? He was right; I _have _ruined my life."

"No you haven't," Janine said. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "Oh Egon, that's just awful. I'm sorry that your father was. . ."

"An unfeeling bastard?" Egon finished for her, smiling a little. "Don't be sorry, Janine. That was just who he was, and undoubtedly still is. Nothing will change that fact."

Janine frowned sympathetically. Then she slid her arms through his in a warm embrace. Surprising even himself, Egon leaned into the hug and completed it, wrapping his own arms around her. The action made him feel immensely better for some reason. It made him feel whole and loved in a way he never had before. And it was. . .wonderful.

"When did you see your family last?" Janine finally asked, her voice muffled slightly by his sweater vest.

"Twenty years," he replied.

She looked up in shock.

He chuckled.

"I know, it's a long time. But it's not like I miss them. Well, except for my mother. She always understood me when Father couldn't. And I guess I miss my younger sister."

Janine's eyebrows shot up. "You have a sister?"

"Two, actually," Egon said with a nod. "And a twin brother. The youngest is Evona, my closest sibling. My second to youngest sister is Ebony, who was adopted. And my brother. . ." Here he shuddered, ". . .is Elon, my twin and polar opposite. The last I heard of him, he had become CEO of a new company called "Wastebusters." How original. Elon is a real pain; he steals people's ideas and converts them into his own asinine concepts for his relentless eco-friendly endeavors. He's an environmentalist, you see, and an obnoxious one at that."

Janine laughed. "Wow," she said. "That's a pretty interesting family you've got. What are your father and mother's names?"

"My mother's name is Eva." Egon sighed happily, his mother's kind, gentle face appearing before him like a dead dream brought back to life. "My father was - _is - _Eric."

"A lot of "E" names in the family, I noticed," Janine remarked. She pulled away from him and found a tall stool to take a seat on. Egon pulled a swivel chair around.

"Believe me, more people have commented on that than you might think," Egon said, laughing heartily now. "At science conventions many of my other relatives - grandparents, aunts, uncles - would come and mingle with everyone. Many Spenglers are scientists after all, so it only made sense. Anyway, others at the conventions would laugh and say how odd it was that the Spengler family tree was made up of people with mostly "E" names. One of us would then explain it was a tradition my great-great-grandfather Ezekiel Spengler started when he named his son Eso, who named his son Elmo, who named his son Eric, who named me - of course - Egon. The other side of the family looked upon this tradition too, though of course the brides' families typically had other family members with names not beginning with "E". The same may be said for my side of the family - certainly a few of my cousins - but not many care to acknowledge that. It's a superiority issue, I think. Apparently great-great grandfather Ezekiel believed "E" names to be powerful. He was supposedly a sorcerer, after all - another matter the Spenglers wish to keep hushed and suppressed. It's rather embarrassing, really."

"So you don't believe in magic, then?" Janine asked, eyes wide with something akin to anticipation.

"No," Egon replied. "Although the overall concept of it makes for fascinating study for scientific value."

"How 'bout love at first sight? Or true love?" Janine's eyes grew warm; a sort of mischievous smile played at the corners of her mouth. Egon wondered vaguely if her change in attitude was meant for him.

"Well, the general conclusions I've come to-" he started to say, before he was cut off by Janine bouncing off her stool, grabbing him by the lapels of his lab coat, and kissing him.

At first Egon was unsure what to do. Then, almost instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, relaxing, and deepening the kiss. He had never been so forward with any woman in his life - and now as his heart fluttered, and the heat rose in his cheeks, he realized what all his awkward mannerisms and seemingly platonic feelings toward Janine had truly meant. He was in love with her. Madly. His heart just hadn't realized it fully until now.

"Hey, Spengler!" a voice upstairs called. "I'm coming down with those soil samples you wanted!"

The two newly joined lovebirds ignored this. A moment later, Ray appeared, bearing a large cardboard box.

"Here ya' go, Spengs," Ray said, turning. His eyes went wide at the scene before him, and his mouth fell open.

"Um," he stammered after a long moment of watching Janine in Egon's lap, feet tucked under her as she weaved her fingers through his hair and embraced him passionately. "Th-This is a bad time. Lemme just, uh, run upstairs and. . .leave you two in private."

The Ghostbuster tripped up the stairs, hurrying to find Peter and Winston. The two were in the lobby - Peter was glancing listlessly over some paperwork, looking as bored as hell; Winston was shooting hoops via a makeshift basketball board and hoop near where the Ecto-1 was parked.

"Guys, you'll never believe this!" Ray cried, closing the basement door behind him. "Spengler's just made his move with Janine!"

Both men perked up, particularly Peter, who jumped out of his seat and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!" he cried. "Finally! Oh, bless the name of Gozer, our little nerd has kissed a girl at last!"

Winston joined the celebrating pair. "First off, don't ever bless Gozer again," he warned Peter. "And secondly, are you sure about this, Ray? I mean did you actually see Egon and Janine kissing?"

"Saw it with my own eyes!" Ray exclaimed, grinning. "Genuine lip to lip interaction. He had his arms around her, his face was all red and his glasses were fogged up. The guy was going all out with our innocent secretary! I mean, wow! I can't believe it!"

Peter laughed. "Man, I told you he was feisty! But I never thought he'd actually stoop to _my_level."

"You mean flirting obnoxiously and sprinkling sexual suggestions throughout your supposedly innocent conversations?" Ray offered. "Sorry Venkman, but it looks like Spengler hasn't fallen that low yet."

"Oh, he'll go low, eventually," Peter promised. "Even if I have to persuade him and teach him some helpful pointers."

"Define helpful," Winston challenged.

Peter glared at him for a long moment. "You know, I hate how clever you are sometimes, Winston. Maybe I should start lowering your wage to compensate for that."

"This is great, though," Ray raved. "Those two are finally making some important steps! This is big, guys! Wait until the media starts to notice - this will just explode!"

"Wait a minute," Winston interjected. "Should we really stick our noses in their personal life and keep tabs on their romantic encounters?"

After a shared look of confirmation, all three men shouted, "Yes!"

Peter rubbed his hands briskly. "Time to get to work, fellas!" he said.

* * *

Tuesday and eventually Wednesday and Thursday rolled along. Egon was in higher spirits than he had been in awhile, and managed to stay out of his lab in order to spend more time with Janine. His ankle was still bothering him as always, and unfortunately, he felt Janine was noticing his limp and obvious pain more and more. By Friday she was anxious. By Saturday she was frantic enough with worry to ask him.

"Cramps," Egon replied, echoing his previous explanation. "I've taken enough of aspirin and Tylenol to keep me healthy for years."

Janine wasn't convinced by this smokescreen. "There's something else you haven't been telling me," she said. "Or the guys. What is it, Egon?"

Egon was lying in his bed, reading a book on physics. With her question he promptly closed his book and set it aside, looking at her with a pained sigh. "Promise me you won't freak out or tell anyone about this?"

Janine nodded in agreement.

With a deep breath, Egon finally revealed the truth. "For the past two weeks I've been walking around with a fractured ankle," he said. "And the only reason I can conceive why I hid it was because I wanted to be strong for everyone, and didn't want to let any of you down."

"Oh God," Janine moaned. "You're serious?"

Egon merely grimaced and shrugged, as if to tell her, "What can I say?"

"Egon, that's just crazy and stupid!" Janine cried. She was sitting to his left on the bed, rubbing his arm. "You need to go to the hospital."

"No!" he all but shouted. Then, clearing his throat, he said more softly, "Sorry, it's just. . .I kind of have this phobia about hospitals."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, my adopted sister I told you about - Ebony - is a doctor. She works right in Manhattan, actually." Egon cleared his throat, his manner becoming more hesitant. "So you see, when I was little all of my siblings and I visited this small, family-owned place in Cleveland, where we moved to after we lived in Chicago for awhile. Father said it was a field trip of sorts - a knowledge booster, he more commonly called it. Myself, Elon and Evona weren't really thrilled about it of course, but Ebony was. Ever since she could talk she wanted to become a doctor, so I guess the trip was more for her than anything else.

"Anyway, the owner of the hospital, Dr. Gilas, offered to give us a tour. At some point I got distracted and was left alone. I freaked out, and tried to find my family, but to no avail. I tried some of the doors to the patient's rooms, hoping to find them there. Instead I found something. . .disturbing."

Here Egon paused a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he spoke again it was a nervous rush.

"In some rooms the patients were covered in blood, or had had their skin melted off, or were horribly disfigured in some other fashion. I could smell their death in the air. . .could almost see their spirits preparing to leave them. I knew I didn't want to be in that hospital anymore. I didn't like seeing those people suffer. Anyway, I continued searching for my father and my siblings, when I came upon a large steel door. I remember putting my hand on it, and it was cold. Freezing to the touch. More out of curiosity, albeit nervous curiosity at this point, I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. I saw several racks laying on each side of the frost-covered room. There were. . .containers on the racks, filled with. . .with livers, hearts, lungs, brains. All of it just. . .floating there. People's organs, rounded up as if for some cannibalistic harvest. My mind instantly latched onto the notion that Dr. Gilas was a cannibal who ate the organs of the severely injured patients he supposedly cared for."

Egon stopped again; this time he was shaking, his breath coming as ragged gasps. "I-I know it's ridiculous, Janine, but I was only five," Egon stammered. "And I s-suppose it didn't help that Elon and I had snuck a zombie movie into the house and watched it the night before we went to the hospital. But I was just terrified. I wanted to get out of that wretched place before I was eaten, too.

"So I ran screaming out of the room, calling for my father and my siblings. No sooner had I turned into a corner that I ran into that chilling doctor, Gilas. He was holding a scalpel and seemed to be grinning from ear to ear like a maniac. I thought he wanted to kill me, too, and perhaps had already killed my family. I let out a bloodcurdling shriek and curled myself into a ball. Before I knew it Elon and my sister Evona were at my side, pulling me up. Ebony looked spooked by my reaction to the doctor, and had a stethescope clutched in her hand.

"My mother, meanwhile, gathered me up in her arms and carried me to the car, and we drove home. I remember looking at the doctor as we left, and he seemed genuinely concerned about me. He didn't look like the crazed lunatic I thought he had been in my panic. It must've been my imagination or something that made me think he looked evil.

Egon sighed now, and a pained look entered his face. "When we got home, my father took his belt and struck me repeatedly with it for my behavior at the hospital. He left some permenant scars on my back. I. . .was still shaking when I crawled into bed and tried to sleep that night. I was afraid about my experience at the hospital, and I was afraid my father would beat me again for being childish. I haven't gone to a hospital ever since. Every time I go near one I think of that moment when I saw all those floating organs, and those disfigured people. I just can't make myself go into a hospital after what happened to me. I can't."

"Dear God," Janine breathed. Her face was visibly pale, and she seemed sympathetically distressed about what Egon had told her. "I'm so sorry. That's sounds so terrible. And you said you were only five?"

Egon nodded. "Elon and I were five, Ebony was four, and Evona was three," he clarified. "It feels stupid now to think back on it. I mean honestly, that's just how hospitals are. They treat people with different ailments and conditions. I know I was upset by Ebony eventually becoming a doctor. She was the youngest to ever joined the field. I stopped talking to her after she did that, because I just couldn't bear to think about what she might be doing to people behind the doors of a hospital."

"So hospitals are definitely not an option for you," Janine said, trying to sort out the information in her head. "We can always discuss that later, maybe, because I don't see how your ankle will heal without getting a cast put on. Which reminds me, how bad is the break?"

In response, Egon sat up and began rolling up his left pants leg. Then he removed his sock and untied his shoe. A large, swollen mass of skin greeted Janine. The area around Egon's ankle was bruised considerably, blue and black in color. She had never seen so serious an injury before.

"You really need to see a doctor," Janine said, putting a hand tentatively on his leg.

Egon winced at the touch, drawing in a sharp breath of pain.

"I'm sorry!" Janine cried, swiftly removing her hand. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"It's hurts like a bitch, as Venkman would say," Egon replied, gritting his teeth. "My whole leg is stiff and sore. I can barely walk without having to sit down or lean against something most of the time."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Janine insisted. "We've been worried sick. Even Venkman has been getting off his ass to help you out. So why keep it a secret for so long?"

"Why else?" Egon said bitterly. "My father - I am the man I am today because of him, for the worse rather than the better. When I was very young, he was all about discipline. He said I had to train my heart, mind and soul to be like one massive steel cage, trapping certain values - like inner strength and endurance - inside while keeping others out. He told me to make the bars of this imaginary cage thicker and thicker as he taught me more, until nothing from outside could get in. I had to keep the values he taught me inside and reject everything else. I had to fight past physical pain and let my mind and spirit continue onwards. I couldn't be weak. And this has worked for the most part, until. . ."

"Until what?"

Tears welled in Egon's eyes suddenly. "Until I met you, Ray, Peter, and Winston. Until I saw the paranormal in action, and knew it wasn't a dream Father could disprove of anymore. Until I had the fortunate of actually discovering love in a woman I've been denying simply because of my father's influence. But not anymore. From now on, I'm going to start listening to my heart. I'm going to let love into my life."

And for the third time since they had started acting on their feelings for one another, Egon leaned over and kissed Janine. It was brief but warm and joyful, expressing so many other things that words couldn't. When they pulled away, Janine was smiling.

"You know, Egon," she said. "It's nice hearing you talk. I know some of it wasn't pleasant but. . .it's great to just listen to you. I don't think I've heard you say so much at any other time since we've met."

"I noticed that, too," he said, a genuine smile tugging at his own lips. "But I believe I know the reason. Life has just been so hard for me. I haven't had anyone to talk to to really wrestle with my feelings and help me understand them better. And with you here, and with everything that's happened to me, I am finally beginning to realize that I need to let it all go and express myself. That way, I can begin to actually live the life I want to. . ."

He reached out and put his hand on hers, a storm of emotions surging through his mind, all of them electrifying him with a warm, positive sense of discovered peace.

"And this new life," Egon concluded, "is one that I want to start with _you,_ Janine."

* * *

Ray, Winston and Peter were all sitting at Peter's desk, snickering like schoolgirls. They had tuned into Egon and Janine's little love fest just a minute before, using a special sound transmission system. They were currently listening to Egon's declaration of love on a tape recording machine Ray had fixed up just for the occasion.

"It's settled," Peter said, when Ray cut off the sound. "We gotta get these two married ASAP. Fan the flames, get them a cover deal with Playboy, anything! The clock's tickin', fellas."

"Pete's right," Ray agreed. "We have to work fast."

"There's just one thing," Winston countered with a growing smile.

His colleagues gazed at him in eager anticipation. "What?" both of them asked.

"What if they're pushed too far?"

Peter grinned. "It's true love, isn't it?" he said. "So it won't really matter. They'll hit some tough spots and then keep on going, 'cause that's what people do when they love someone.

"They'll plunge into the madness. . . .together."

THE END

**Author's Notes:**

**And that's all, folks! I know this was a long one, but I just wanted to address the bigger picture in order to set things up for my future stories.****Some things in this, of course, may have been left unanswered. Don't worry! Once I get into the Demon story, and the one after, you'll understand. :3**

**Also, a note on Egon's twin brother, Elon. He is not my creation, nor is Wastebusters. I believe the concept of these two things were conceived in an SCTV sketch Harold Ramis did for an Earth Day special of some sort. Feel free to look it up! It is very amusing!**

**The other members of Egon's family mentioned belong to me, however. So many "E" names I know! It is kind of a running joke my best friend and I have, and since she helped me develop some of the characters, I couldn't help but stick to that. :3**

**Finally, a thank you to all who favorited, followed, and/or reviwed. Your kind words mean a lot to me! And be on the look out for "The Demon and Dr. Spengler," one of my next big projects! Until then, hasta la vista. :3**

_**Updated as of March 3rd, 2015: Hey there! I just wanted to let people know that this chapter was updated for reasons of inconsistencies arising between this and my other Ghostbusters fic, The Demon and Dr. Spengler. Now that the proper edits have been made to this, everything should be consistent now between the two stories. Just thought you'd all like to know! :)**_


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